Broken
by crooked-soul
Summary: Draco muses on the path he's been forced down and the one he adores from a distance Warnings:Slash, cutting


**Don't own yada yada  
Warnings: Slashy references, cutting**

Broken

The moonlight glitters on the surface of the black lake like drops of molten silver, shimmering softly. A gentle wind moves across the grounds, whistling through the branches of the Whomping Willow and disturbing the calm surface of the lake. Its cold but I don't mind, the cold is abstract, I'm too detached from everything to bother with any reaction.

My gaze is fixed on a small trailing piece of pond weed a little way into the lake, the tip only just breaking the surface, swaying slightly in unseen currents. For some reason it fascinates me, this lonely, slimy little bit of pond weed. Not quite part of the blackness of the lake but not part of the brilliance of the moonlight either. I snorted almost inaudibly, am I really comparing myself to a bit of pond weed now? The sleepless nights must really be getting to me, although come to think of it, Malfoy's were certainly slippery enough, _what a disappointment I must be, _I thought wryly.

If Lucius ever found out how big of a disappointment and a screw up I really am, he would probably kill me without a second thought. After all if he was perfectly happy with using _Crucio _on me then I doubt it would be that big of a leap to cast _Avadra Kedavra _instead, not for someone like him. I thought back to the letter I got from mother this morning that currently lay crumpled in my pocket, the Dark Lord was getting more impatient and Narcissa was evidently getting more nervous, I had to show that I was making progress with the mission otherwise who knew what fresh hell that psychopath might cook up for my mother and me. It was up to me, the Malfoy heir, to carry on in loyal service to the Dark Lord, my responsibility to make sure he was never displeased with us as he was when Lucius failed to acquire the prophecy. It felt like the weight of the world.

Its funny that the only other person who understands that expectation, that responsibility is supposed to be the one person I hate more than anyone, but I just _can't _hate him, not him, never him. I used to envy him, resent him even for knowing what it was like to have true friends who weren't just there because of my family's status, for being loved and admired rather than feared. I don't anymore though, instead I just see how broken he is, brief moments when others aren't watching and there's just a glimpse in his eyes of someone so utterly lost that its like looking in the mirror.

Sometimes when I see him it takes every bit of restraint that I have not to run to him and tell him everything will turn out alright, that he has more strength than he knows and that no matter what its _his _choice, other peoples opinions shouldn't matter. It would be more than hypocritical of me, I know, but I still want to be able to say it, I may be too much of a coward to follow my own advice but that doesn't mean he is. Part of me wants to betray Voldemort's plan as well, to tell Harry every little thing I've managed to learn as the son of a death eater and a future death eater myself, in the hope that it would help but mostly just so I can see him look at me differently, however selfish that may be.

I imagine sometimes what would happen if I did tell him, if I could without having to sacrifice my family to do so, because I know Voldemort would find out, I'm not an occlumist, I can't keep him out of my mind, just thinking of the times when he's invaded my thoughts makes me shudder. I can dream though, can't I? I can imagine what it would be like for him to smile at me, just me, and be glad that I'm alive, thankful for something _I've _done? I know its not real and never can be but I live for those brief moments when reality is merely a distant concept and the world just fades away, sometimes it feels like the only thing keeping me sane, other times I feel it will drive me mad.

Its getting harder to sleep at night now, I lie in bed for hours, my eyes screwed tightly shut and my body tense as I try to shut out my thoughts, as soon as I try to relax to sleep, they come rushing back, the voices that whisper how I don't deserve to be alive, that I'm a coward and an evil bastard who only managed to hurt people. It was always harder at night when there were no more distractions, just me and my self-loathing, the constant war between my responsibilities and my desires, echoing in the quiet and the dark where no-one could hear my silent screams.

That was why I was currently outside, I knew I would definitely not sleep at all tonight, not when that girls face still haunted me. Part of me had known that she would more than likely fall prey to the curse on the necklace before it ever got to Dumbledore but I had to show I was at least trying and I had hoped it wouldn't harm her, that she could of gotten it to Dumbledore first so he could neutralise it. I was really just trying to delay the inevitable, I didn't like the old man because I could see in him the same manipulative ways of Voldemort, but that didn't mean I wanted to kill him, I don't want to have to kill anyone, I know I would never be able to forgive myself for it. It all comes down to the choice between my family and everyone else, family wins out, it always would, when I am hated and spurned by others, Lucius and Narcissa, whatever their faults, will at least stick by me.

Besides I'm Draco Malfoy, they all expect me to turn out evil, even Harry, it will give them some pleasure to find out they were right about me all along I imagine, Weasley especially, I'll bet he'll have a field day running up and down the castle telling everyone that all Malfoy's are evil murdering bastards just like he's said all along. He doesn't matter though, its Harry who matters, I wonder if he'll be disappointed or convince himself he's known all along what kind of scum I am. I want to prove to him that I'm not but the Fates are just messing with me now, I've been backed into a corner and now they'll make him wish I had never been born, make _me _wish I'd never been born, because whatever I may think of Dumbledore, he's one of the few people left protecting Harry, at least until he defeats Voldemort in any case.

Thinking these things and feeling myself slip further and further into despair I find myself absentmindedly tracing the ribbons on my wrists, just another way of distracting myself that I had resorted to. It had become a sort of fascination to me, watching the thin line of blood bloom across my pale skin, sometimes pooling and running over in little rivulets, the few sharp moments of physical pain managing to make me feel blissfully numb, if only for a while. I'm perfectly aware it won't really accomplish anything but I just no longer cared, it was one of the few things left under my control and my control alone so I had long ago decided that when it came to this, something I felt I needed, I would do as I damn well pleased.

Of course it did then pose the problem of having to constantly make sure my arms were hidden and I had a horrible feeling that I wasn't paying enough attention the other day in potions and had automatically gone to roll up my sleeves, I caught myself and hurriedly rolled them back down again after only about thirty seconds. However, because the Fates so _love _to mock me there was a rather large chance that Harry, who had been sitting near me, might have seen, he gave me an odd look after I pulled my sleeves back down at any rate. Although he probably just thought I was hiding the Dark Mark, I shuddered slightly at the thought of having to receive that particular branding, which I doubtlessly _would, _if I'm not dead before then of course. Especially if I succeeded in killing Dumbledore, it was an initiation of sorts apparently, I scoffed to the still night air, it sounded like some stupid muggle cult, _I can't believe Lucius sees all this as an honour. _

I glance at my watch, its about four in the morning I realised with a small start of surprise, looking up I could actually see the faint stirrings of dawn in the sky, I stared at it for a while, half-desperate for the hope dawn always seemed to promise but knowing it was just another empty metaphor. I belonged more to the night and the dark now, a broken shell blindly following the path already laid out for me.

**Sequel is up now, its called Shattered and written from Harry's pov and there will be another one after that called Pieces that sort of has both pov's**

**Please Review, it makes my day :)**


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